Three Nights in Greece Read online

  THREE NIGHTS IN GREECE

  By

  Ciar Cullen

  Copyright © 2012 by Ciar Cullen

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Other Books by Ciar Cullen

  Brand new shapeshifter novella available 7/31/2012

  Fish Out of Water

  Steampunk:

  Steamside Chronicles

  Paranormal:

  Mayan Nights

  Mayan Secrets

  Private Dancer (Mayan Epilogues)

  The Egyptian Keeper’s Demon

  The Egyptian Keeper’s Daughter

  Love’s Alchemy

  Key West Magic

  The Biggest Kahuna

  Fantasy:

  Lords of Ch’i

  Wizard of Time

  The Prince of Anfall

  Dark Prince of Anfall

  All Ciar’s books are available for electronic signature on Kindlegraph.com. Ciar loves to hear from readers and other writers. You can contact her at [email protected], find her on Facebook and Twitter, or stop by and chat with her at www.ciarcullen.wordpress.com or www.ciarcullen.com.

  CHAPTER 1

  “That one. I want her,” Kevin Colin declared as he tapped his index finger on the screen of his sleek laptop several times.

  “Poor choice. She’s brilliant, but not a great actress—more accustomed to espionage. She’s new, just came on board about two months ago. I get the feeling…”

  “Go ahead.” Kevin leaned back in his leather chair and chuckled lightly at his assistant. “No matter how good they are, you always find a flaw.”

  Sarah folded her arms across her chest and sighed. She took a moment before answering, examining all the images of her newest recruit. “She’s still recovering from a job at the Agency, one that went bad. Thus her employment with us. I really wasn’t going to consider her for anything dangerous for a few more months.”

  “How bad?” Kevin arched a brow.

  “Tied-up-in-a-shed-in-Qatar bad.”

  “That’s bad.” Kevin looked again at the computer screen. No, it has to be her. “I’ll be there with her, every second. It will ease her back in. Besides, I know the man’s tastes. She fits this job like a glove.”

  “Geez, Colin, she’s an agent, not a prostitute.” Sarah scowled at him.

  “She looks like a prostitute.” He held up his hand to ward off Sarah’s attack. “Sorry, I know she’s on the job in these photos. Sit down, Sarah, you’re making me nervous. You have a bad habit of looking over my shoulder.”

  Sarah took the seat across the huge mahogany desk and smirked.

  “And you have a bad habit of questioning my judgment.”

  Kevin laughed and ran his hand through his hair. “Agreed.”

  He wondered for the hundredth time how he had ever managed without Sarah. The tiny, middle-aged black woman seemed a very unlikely agent. Which made her the perfect agent. She had lost her ex-military habit of calling him “sir” rather quickly, and they had become fast friends. And he relied on her judgment, utterly. Then why are you ignoring it this time?

  “Pick someone else, Kevin.”

  “Nope, trust me, curvy brunette. Or you can find me someone else. I know the man—this is what he’d want.” He tapped the photo again. This is what any man would want. Long legs, curvy hips, perfect full round breasts swelling above a low-cut top. And that cherry-red mouth, those dark chocolate-brown eyes. Very hot.

  “I can see I’ve lost this one. I thought you put aside your libido when it came to work? That’s what I tell everyone. You’re really letting me down, boss. You’re going to have to walk her through it.”

  “Tough job, but somebody’s got to do it. What’s her name?”

  “Layla Swann. Thirty-two.”

  “And?”

  “Agency for five years. As I said, she went a little haywire after her last job with them. They were probably too structured for her anyway. Good with weapons, breaking and entering. But a rather poor actress, as I said. Very high IQ. Fluent in Spanish, French, German, Arabic, but no Greek. Good sense of humor. And then, of course, men seem to want her the second they lay eyes on her. Wait until you see the 3-D version. I think she’ll do well, it’s just a little too soon…”

  “Nice catch, Sarah. You’re the best recruiter in the business. Talk to her. A hundred, half up front.”

  Sarah nodded and made a few notes. “You can stop salivating now,” she called over her shoulder in parting as she left his office.

  He laughed, shutting down his laptop. “There goes that raise.”

  ***

  A hundred thousand. Layla stared at the ceiling, wondering how it would feel to see a check with five zeroes on it. No, seven, if you counted the pennies. Seven zeroes. Of course, I might die before I get to cash it, she thought, wondering if she could will it to someone. If it were like the Munich job, she’d die of boredom. If it were like Qatar…

  “And of course, you’ll have to meet immediately with Mr. Colin. This Ardros is a bit tricky, not to be underestimated.”

  “I won’t sleep with him. Ardros, I mean. I’ll make him believe I will, but I won’t,” Layla stated emphatically.

  Sarah nodded. “Of course! That goes without saying. Ms. Swann.”

  “Call me Layla, please.”

  “Layla, I’ve read the file on Qatar. Perhaps it’s a little soon and you’d like to stay closer to home? I could speak to Mr. Colin again— he wouldn’t hold it against you, I’m sure.”

  “No, please. I’m ready. It’s not relevant.” Layla squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, forcing away the quick jolt of pain as the memories flooded back. “Tell me more about this job. I’ve heard Colin’s a ball-buster. What’s involved in the training?” she asked, focusing on the job at hand to change the subject. “I’m still tired from Munich. Not much fun sitting in a car for ten days. What a bust.”

  “That bad lead wasn’t your fault. Of course, Mr. Colin understands that and he won’t take it out on you. He’s demanding, but fair.”

  “He’s the devil himself, isn’t he, Sarah? You’re devoted to him, though, so you’ll never admit it. I know your type—brilliant, underpaid, overworked and overlooked.”

  Sarah howled with laughter. “Brilliant, yes. Underpaid and overlooked, hardly. And yes, I’m devoted to Kevin and the firm. Layla, you’ve been sorely misinformed. Kevin’s not a ball-buster, honestly. He pays well and expects the best from his best detectives. You have the makings to be one of the best.”

  Layla sat up straight. Don’t blow this. The past is the past.

  “Look, I’m sorry Sarah. I didn’t mean disrespect to Mr. Colin or the firm, honestly. Employees sometimes gripe.”

  Sarah smiled. “Relax, no offense taken. Don’t believe everything you hear, especially from within the ranks. Not everyone is at your level, and there’s going to be jealousy.”

  Layla smiled and nodded. “Thanks. For everything, Sarah. For taking me on, suggesting me for this job. You won’t regret it.”

  “Actually, Kevin picked you personally, so you can thank him yourself.” She grabbed her coat, made her way to the door, and then turned in mid-stride. “Woman to woman—watch yourself, Ms. Swann. Kevin and his female employees…well he has a tendency to, hmmm…”

  “What? He’s not one t
o take advantage of his position? Because if he thinks—”

  “No, no, no. In fact, quite the opposite. He’s had to let some employees go because they…well…developed crushes on him, shall we say? And that’s being kind. He never, ever, mixes business and pleasure. Never mind, you’ll make your own judgment. Just don’t be late. Kevin doesn’t tolerate tardiness.”

  Sarah smiled and left the apartment.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Layla saluted the door.

  ***

  Layla glanced at her watch. Despite the hour, she decided she had to have a cup of coffee immediately or die. She knew she was taking a risk. “Kevin doesn’t tolerate tardiness,” she repeated to herself as she ran into the coffee shop.

  She felt more nervous by the minute as a young couple in front of her took their time ordering elaborate coffee concoctions. Layla tapped her foot and glanced around, hoping someone else would speak up and speed things along. Then she saw the man in line next to her, his stare searing into her like a knife. She turned to ask him to curb his rudeness. And froze.

  Six feet tall, black artfully-disheveled hair, bright blue eyes, and a mouth that screamed “kiss me.” Her mother would have called him “black Irish.” Damn. Still, he was staring a little rudely, and she wasn’t one to give a man a break, even one this hot.

  “Hello,” he said softly with a slight smirk.

  Layla jumped, not expecting him to speak. “Yes, hello. Whatever.” She turned to the counter girl. “A double, tall, grande, or whatever the hell you call it. The big one. With room for milk.” She turned back to Irish. “Whatever happened to small, medium, and large?”

  His eyes grew huge and she thought they actually twinkled. At the lack of response, she shrugged and began preparing her coffee.

  “Let me do that.” To her astonishment, his voice actually sang in an Irish lilt. He took the sugar packets from her hand and ripped off the tops, pouring them in and stirring. He threw in a dash of cinnamon without asking if she wanted it. Weirdo.

  “Well, thanks, very kind. Gotta go.” Layla started toward the door and stopped cold. She could feel his stare, the sensation prickling her back between the shoulder blades. She walked back to him, pulled a pen from her portfolio, and wrote her number on a napkin. How could you be so stupid? A stranger, and in New York. It’s a wonder I survived two months despite my training. Maybe he slipped something into my coffee. Nah, I would have noticed. She held out the napkin.

  He warded it off with a raised hand and a shake of the head. “No need. I already have your number.” He grinned slightly before turning to the counter. Layla watched as he placed his order, ignoring her completely as he did so.

  Okay, so he’s gorgeous and odd, and either attached or gay, probably an actor or model. A shame.

  Layla sighed in regret. “Have a nice life,” she cheerfully called over her shoulder, meaning it, as she left the coffee shop. After checking her watch again, she ran the remaining three blocks to the office. “Go time, Layla!”

  ***

  “Mr. Colin should be here shortly.” The secretary smiled and idly tapped his pen on a pad. This one is definitely a struggling actor, Layla thought. He was young, maybe twenty-two, handsome in an all- American kind of way, with a bright practiced smile. He ran his hand through his short blonde hair and Layla imagined he was constantly aware of how he appeared to others.

  She smiled back and took a seat, hugging her portfolio to her chest. “Have you worked for Mr. Colin long, Mr.…?”

  “Spencer. Tristan Spencer. This is my third month. Made it past the probationary period.” He looked a trifle embarrassed. “Not that there was really any question.”

  “Oh, of course not. But I’m sure it’s a challenging job. I mean, talking to important clients, making travel arrangements, ensuring things go smoothly…”

  Poor kid, she thought. He doesn’t do a thing all day except watch Colin come and goes. Sarah does the real work. The kid’s window dressing and he doesn’t even know it.

  Tristan nodded uncertainly. “Yes, it can get busy.” He rearranged the few items on his desk, folding a newspaper and shoving it into a drawer. “Kevin—he has me call him Kevin—depends a good deal on me to keep things rolling.”

  “I imagine you have to do personal errands, too? Most assistants get pulled into around chauffeuring the kids, picking up gifts for the wives…”

  “Oh, well, there’s only Molly, and she’s in daycare. Kevin takes her before work.” He looked at the clock. “That’s why he comes in a little late.”

  Layla made a mental note. Molly—daycare. Single dad? Probably overworked, maybe a workaholic.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  “Oh, here he is, right on time.” Spencer smiled as Kevin Colin opened the door, briefcase and latte in hand.

  Layla felt color flush her face, and the veins in her head began screaming. “Oh, fuck me.”

  He smiled. Yep, those eyes actually twinkled. “Told you I had your number.”

  “Oh, excuse my language. It’s just…you know. Well, of course you know. You’re the one who knew the whole time. The least you could have done was pay for my coffee, seeing as you’re my boss.”

  “At least I fixed it for you. You must be the one person in my employ who hasn’t bothered to look me up on the net.”

  “Never seemed to matter what you looked like. Until now.” Layla shook her head in dismay, but she felt a bit more relaxed at Colin’s obvious good nature.

  He laughed and motioned for her to join him in his office. “Nothing for two hours, Tristan.”

  “Well, you don’t need another grande, Ms. Swann, so have a seat and I’ll be with you directly.”

  Layla wondered if she had just blown one hundred thousand dollars. Well, at least he was still smiling. He threw his suit jacket on the couch, loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

  She laughed lightly. “Why do you bother wearing a jacket when you’re going to take it off anyway?” Shut up, Layla. Let him speak first. Don’t blow this.

  Colin raised a brow. “Because I’m handsome in a suit? Actually, never thought about it. It’s a little silly, you’re right. But you never know what the day will bring.” He logged onto his computer and turned the laptop to face her.

  Layla stared at a number of likenesses of herself, some real, some in disguise and some enhanced. “Whoa, I don’t look like that naked! Wish you could do that to me without surgery.”

  “No? Why don’t you describe to me exactly what you do look like naked? I’ve some extra time this morning.” Laughter danced merrily in his eyes.

  Okay, Layla, it’s Colin. You’re supposed to impress him. “Sorry, Irish—I mean, boss.”

  He raised his brows. “Lovely. Why don’t we get down to business? Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  “It’s all in the file. What can I tell you that you don’t know? I assume you even have my DNA profile. That’s more than I have.”

  “Do it anyway. Pretend you don’t know me at all.” He pushed back his chair and propped his expensive shoes on the desk.

  “I don’t know you at all.”

  “You know what I mean. Talk about anything—anything that’s running through your head. I’m just trying to get a feel for you.” He linked his hands together behind his neck and stretched out comfortably. Layla tried to pull her gaze away from his chest as it stretched the fabric of his crisp white shirt, his arm muscles showing through the fine cloth. She looked up to see the amusement on his face—his astonishingly handsome face.

  She took in a deep breath.

  “All right, then. You are not what I expected. Of course, you’ve already realized that. You’re used to the effect you have on women.”

  He snorted lightly and widened his eyes. “Indeed? What effect might that be?”

  Layla ignored him. “You’re practically laughing out loud at me; you’re so pleased with yourself for your little joke in the coffee shop. You have a daughter—Molly—and you take her to d
aycare, which suggests that you’re probably a single father.”

  Kevin raised a brow and Layla regretted betraying Tristan.

  “Oh, I pulled it out of him, don’t blame him, please. So, if you’re a single father, I wonder why? You didn’t cheat on your wife or she’d have custody. So…something’s screwy there. Oh, the explanation just passed across your face. I’m so sorry.” Layla shook her head in dismay. Nice going, screwball.

  Colin nodded, the twinkle gone from his eyes.

  “So, that leaves me to wonder how I’m going to like this mission. You make me horribly nervous, but only because of your position and your generous offer to a newcomer. I don’t give a damn about your looks. At least I don’t think I do.” The twinkle came back.

  Layla hesitated. “I’m concerned that you’re going to tell me I have to sleep with someone. I’ve been trained to do a lot of things, but I won’t do that for money. The Agency wasn’t so pleased with that caveat of mine. I told Sarah, but I want to make it clear once again. Now it’s your turn.”

  “This isn’t a date. I don’t really feel the need to talk about myself to you.”

  “Oh, right.” Layla picked up her coffee and crossed her long bare legs in an attention-grabbing fashion.

  Colin leaned back in his chair. “Lovely shoes. Beautiful legs. I noticed, appreciated, and am duly affected. Now stop flirting with me, Ms. Swann. It’s not in the job description, it’s not professional and it won’t make me like you any better.”

  “Force of habit, sorry. I cover nervousness with flirtation. I’m prone to the former and pathetic at the latter. Unfortunately, you being in the business and all, you’d pick up on it.” Layla coughed delicately, trying to cover her embarrassment.

  “Now you’re babbling. This won’t do on the mission. Perhaps we need to talk this through a bit.”

  “Actually, you started it with the naked photos. Trust me, I can handle myself.”